How Will I Know
by angryoctopus
Summary: Sometimes its not easy to love. Sometimes you look in the wrong places or feel like you've lost the ability to love completely. Sometimes it takes another person to open your eyes.


_First of all __**please, please read the A/N at the end of the chapter**__. It'll explain my, erm, absence, and things that are happening with HWIK._

**_Spoilers_**_: This story is a kinda-sorta AU future fic. Kind of. It is completely canon up until most of NBK. From there we will be AU, excluding some minor elements from the rest of season two and season three. Any elements from season three on that are included will be warned for spoilers._

**_Disclaimer_**_: I am a liar, my pants are constantly on fire. (GLEE and all mentioned characters are trademarks and property of Fox and Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, and Brad Falchuk. I'm pretty sure that Kurt and Blaine fucking hate that.)_

_Last but not least, a ginormous thank you to my always wonderful beta/cheerleader Cas. Without her I would be nothing but a whimpering puddle of writer's block and depression._

The sky outside is much too dark for five o'clock. Clouds hang low and heavy over the bustling city, pregnant gray masses that threaten heavy rain for the third day in a row. On a quieter street towards the edge of the city a young man can be seen in the front window of Danny's Flowers, glaring up at said sky as if maybe if he frowns just right, the clouds will clear and he can get home without getting wet.

It starts to rain.

Kurt Hummel sighs. His life never seems to go the way he wants.

He glares for several minutes more, decides to leave- maybe he can get home before it gets worse- and turns to find the florist to finalize his order.

Five minutes later finds him hurrying down the street, head down, searching through his messenger bag for his phone that's trilling incessantly. "Kurt Hummel, Ever After Weddings, how can I help your dreams come true?" he answers automatically and with no conviction. He hates their fucking slogan.

"Y'know, maybe we'd get more bookings if you sounded like you actually believed in "happily ever after", Hummel."

_Shit._ "Ms. Winston! How are you?" He ducks into the mouth of the nearest alley to escape the rain and nibbles lightly at the inside of his cheek as his boss' light twang trickles through the phone.

"Hummel, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Donna?" The fifty-something year old woman chuckles good naturedly at his grumblings and begins speaking again before he has the chance to answer properly. "Anyways, how's the Tillman-Harris wedding? Did you get the flowers ordered?"

"Yes, ma'am. But you have to tell me where you find these people. I swear, the _imbecile_ I was just at tried to convince me to use a daisy bouquet for a winter wedding! How do you even call yourself a professional suggesting things like that? And the arrangements they _did_ offer, well- let's just say we're lucky I could find something suitable."

Donna's laugh is harsh as she cuts off his nervous rambling. There are times when he wonders if she sends him to these people as a test. _This is one of those times, _he thinks with a frown. He's about to ask exactly _why _she's called, other than to harass him, when her voice comes sweet and sly through the receiver. And Kurt knows just what she's going to say before she says it, can pretty much recite the speech for her at this point and hardly even cringe as he does it. "Y'know, darlin', you've got quite a knack for all this. I haven't seen anyone take on a pissy bride quite like you, and that damn eye you've got... And when you _do_ branch off on your own-" This is usually where Kurt tries to protest that _no_, he will not be working on weddings for the rest of his life, he will not branch off and open his own business because he most definitely does _not_ enjoy any part of his job. At all.

She cuts him off before they get into the usual argument. "I don't wanna hear it, Hummel," her tone is teasing, edging on just this side of hard, "You and I both know that you're damn good at what you do and, despite how much you enjoy lying to yourself, you love it. Besides the chance to get to see my lovely face every day, it's the reason you drag that cute ass of yours outta bed."

Kurt cracks a reluctant smile. "Whatever you say, Donna."

"Damn right, kid. But listen, I didn't call just to stroke your delicate ego. I need you to do something for me. It seems things on my end are a little more...complicated than I first suspected. So, until I can straighten out this shit fest, you're in charge."

He can feel the blood drain from his face before she even finishes speaking. "Hell, Donna, that's- wow. But that means-"

"Yeah, yeah. You get to handle the high profiles, now. But you've got Marci and Stephen and all my little flying monkeys there to order around. You can do it."

Kurt sighs and leans back against the nearest building.

"Donna." Another sigh. "First of all, Stephen's an idiot. He wouldn't know the difference between eggshell and off-white if it bit him in the ass, and that damn _ascot_ he wears constantly. I have no idea why you keep him around. But," he smiles ruefully, "I suppose I could manage. But first you have to tell me how in the _hell _you managed to make a vacation to the Caribbean _complicated._"

The older woman barks out a laugh and, in answer, she hangs up.

He knows that he probably should have told her no. Begged off with complaints that he hardly has a social life as is, he's never home and can't really handle this kind of workload. He has a musical that still needs finishing...

Kurt's eyes are drawn back to the sky, lighter now that the rain has stopped, but still gray and dismal. It strikes him that the grays reflect what his life has become far more than he would like to admit. Colorless, boring...sad.

He shakes his head and drops his eyes to the ground as he begins to walk again. _At least it's not raining_, he thinks with a microscopic smile. He just happens to be turning towards his apartment building when a taxi passes him, sending water flying at him and soaking him head to toe.

This is Kurt Hummel's life.

* * *

A/N: Um, yeah. First of all, if you're a new reader feel free to skip my begging for forgiveness and continue on. If you've been following this, I suck I know. I've had no internet for ages and my Muse has been a bitch. You may have noticed that things are slightly different; I've rewritten everything, added new details, changed some things, and basically flushed everything out so please re-read the new chapters.

Also! Just a word to the wise, **this will not be a wedding planner!Kurt fic. **If that's what you were hoping for, you're SOL. That's just the way life took him and his being a wedding planner actually has about nothing to do with the fic.

Finally, reviews would be absolutely swell and would make me feel all tingly inside. (Please stroke my ego, it's lonely.) You can also find me on tumblr as **angryoctopi** for any questions, comments, concerns, or creeping.


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